Gemotions

The book, *The Unseen Worlds of Henry Bellweather*, lay on Henry's desk, its pages catching the weak light of his study. He felt a deep, profound disturbance. He’d always kept his inner life to himself. He leaned back in his chair, the aged leather groaning in protest.

He had always been a solitary figure. His greatest joys were found in his research, his writing. Now, it appeared someone else had been observing him, documenting his every move, his every thought. He felt his stomach tighten.

He looked out the window at the darkened sky. He felt a cold dread, as though a shadow had fallen over his soul. He had always valued his privacy above all else. This felt like a theft. He felt a profound sense of loss.